Hardest of Hearts
by Mmbookworm
Summary: She's the girl without a name; she's you or she could if you're a survivor. He's the odd man out of his group and she's got something he recognizes. There is nothing but silence between them until one silent watch when he pushes the bounds of their silent reverence to coax answers from this familiar stranger only to find more questions than answers. Daryl/OC
1. Safe

Safe

AN: I don't know where this came from. It just wrote itself out on my computer screen. This has the potential to lead into more of story if there is an audience for it. If you want more give a review to let me know what you liked and didn't like and we'll go from there.

_The human heart has hidden treasure, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, whose charms were broken if revealed. _

_~Charlotte Bronte _

Would you ever think that the safest you'd ever feel would be after an apocalypse, well it's the truth. This is the safest I've ever felt, even though nearly everything that goes on two legs is happy to kill you and ravage your body for whatever it wants. Hopefully kill you first, but not always a guarantee, I've found that out the hard way.

But I feel safe because he's here. Well over there, but still. I can see him, he can see me if he looks up. He's across the way picking his way through the scattered underbrush of this little glen we found to bed down in for the night. Looking for a good spot to set up and take the watch he was assigned. Most of them don't like sleeping out under the stars but I don't mind. It also might have something to do with the fact that I sleep in trees; it's a wee bit safer than on the ground, all kinds of predators down there.

I feel safe because he, Daryl Dixon, is here. He's the reason I joined up with these people not too long ago. He found me scavenging in the woods a while back and decided to take me in. Dunno why, I wouldn't pick me. But that's beside the point, he did and so here I am looking across a clearing, filled with people who I'm sure would rather I weren't around; it's not that they're bad people, it's just that I despised small talk before the End and now I think it's absolutely worthless. So as you might imagine I don't know much about any of them and they don't really seem inclined to give it another go at getting to know me.

But he's, I don't know, he's different. There is something about him, something almost shiny under his constant layer of dirt. He's calm and quiet, but mostly he's just there, a constant presence that doesn't waver or change. He also doesn't expect me to be completely normal or anything. I like it; this is certainly a huge change for me considering that for almost this entire time I've been by myself. The other parts I don't like to talk about.

My goodness, where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself, I'm you; well I could be as long as you are a survivor, I am. It's my plan to make that Grim Reaper think twice about coming for me. And if I do say so myself I'm doing a pretty good job. I make people uneasy, always have. I stopped caring when the dead started walking. If you think I'm strange then you don't try to be around me and I have fewer things to worry about. But these people are different, they don't feel comfortable around me but they try, like there must be something redeemable about me.

They know I've got one foot out the door, I'm just waiting for the sign it's going to hell to run. They don't like me because of that fact, I don't care. Or at least I tell myself that I don't. Honestly, it hurts. No I won't abandon them but I'm also not going to stick around if it's obviously going to go the way the War did; if it's time to run, it's time to run. I'm not a coward but I am a survivor.

I do my part to make sure everyone is taken care of, I help hunt, as much as I can but I'm not much of a hunter, I'm more of a healer. I can do a lot with plants, and I do. My bag is full of jars of dried herbs and ointments along with salves to help with bruises and cuts and to relieve pain and itching. I know the best things to use when someone gets sick, I also know where to find all this stuff in the wild. I guess you could call me a medicine woman or something.

I don't care what you call me. There's only one person I allow myself to wish for. I mean I wish for them all but I don't let those wishes get real I guess you could say, for the most part we're all gonna die a not pleasant way. That's the way life is now. We will die young and the best thing you can do is die fighting, and hope that you can get to your insurance policy to stay dead. But I let myself hope for **him, **hope he finds someone to love and lives happily for a while.

Glancing around the campsite, everyone is pretty much curled up safe and as warm as you can get outside after a rain; the chill in the air makes me pull the blanket a little closer around myself, it's an awkward thing to do in a tree but I make it work. Sure you can get away faster if you're on the ground but I'm not really worried about the hordes finding us, I've had my fair share of brushes with other survivors; and only one of them has been sort of pleasant. Take a guess which one I'm talking about.

Hence the trees and my clothing choices, defense and camouflage first everything else can fall away. It's been awhile since they all started grabbing zzzs, I've been up the tree for a bit longer, though I'm not sleeping. I'm listening and watching.

Daryl's on first watch, I'm usually up when he's watching, not because we talk or anything. He just doesn't judge me and the accepting silence is nice. He's silent like he knows what's going on, like he knows why I do what I do. And honestly he might, I don't know much about any of them.

"You can come on down, darlin', ain't a Walker gonna get by while on I'm on watch. You're safe down 'ere" he said glancing up at my perch. I'm tied to the trunk of the tree about ten feet up, my feet just touching the branch below them, supporting just enough weight to keep the blood flowing. Looking down the dying fire light catches his eyes and for a moment they look like quick silver, and I can't help but smile a little bit, I do trust him. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to go down at least while he's on watch, and then when he grabs zzzs I'll go back to my tree.

Loosening the harness I made for myself months ago after the first incident with survivors I slip down the trunk careful not to make too much noise. Shouldn't wake the others, they are all worried and wrapped up in their own little worlds and need their sleep. It's another thing that sets me apart; I stopped really caring about the world ending and trying to make something that resembled the life I had before. None of it really matters any more. It's over and gone.

"Why do you sleep up 'dere, darlin'?" Daryl asked as I picked my way across the camp to his position watching the natural entrance to the glen we're camped in tonight.

"Safety." I say simply looking for a place to sit close to him, I don't want to wake the others or put us in danger from speaking too loudly. There are two place I could sit one is next to him with my back against the tree he's leaning on and the other is with my back to black woods, hmmm decisions to make.

"Mmmm, I guess that makes sense," he said thoughtfully as I settled with my back to the woods, I don't know him well enough to sit next him. We'll see if we live long enough for that to happen.

"Not much can get you up a tree." I say turning my head to catch the sounds of the forest behind me. My instincts will perk if something changes in the sounds. They're honed really sharp by now.

"True, but yah can get further away faster if yer on the ground." His eyes piercing mine as if hoping mine give away some hint as to why I don't sleep on the ground. The truth is that I've already given away why I don't sleep on the ground. The truth is there in my movements, my behavior.

"I just feel safer in trees." I say, I don't really want to get into why I stopped doing what my ancestors have done for hundreds of thousands of years. It's a period of my survival I'd rather not remember.

"Alright darlin' I won't push yah." His eyes glance down and watch as I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. "Yah know you're safe, right? Non's gonna hurt yah." He's trying to make me feel better, but that's a promise no one can keep. Life took a sudden turn back to hard and short when the dead woke up and started walking.

"I know, some days it just feels surreal. I mean I was studying anthropology, natural medicine and botany and now I'm sleeping in trees using what I know to survive." I can't keep the hopelessness or tears from my voice.

"So anthropology, natural medicine and botany taught you how to use those?" he asked incredulously nodding towards my weapons, the stilettos bound to my writs with their quick release, the bone knife at my hip; he knows I have a garrot wire in my pocket, the handles stick out just a bit so I don't get poked and the only one not visible was the short bow that I can assemble in less than a minute currently resting in the small of my back under my shirt.

"No a morbid fascination with the Vikings and the Middle Ages did. My parents were okay with the archery, thought I could get a scholarship on it maybe. The close quarters combat with knives, not so much, but I didn't give them much choice. I learned it on my own." A wistful smile crossing my lips as I thought back to how much fun I thought it would be to drive my parents mad this stuff. It never occurred to me that it might save my life one day.

"Mmmm," he says nodding, his eyes holding mine looking for something there. He nods ever so slightly, you might miss it because he also throws his head so the small bit of hair that was close to his eye is flicked from its place. "You're somethin' else you know that?" He asks with a bit of smile.

"Yeah, my Grandmother always told me I would never find a good husband. Said that men liked to take care of women. That they didn't want a wife who could throw knives, shoot a bullseye at 500 meters, or any of the other things I can do. She said that women who could do those things found themselves without men in their later years. Said that they wanted a woman to keep a house and all that other bull." I say thinking how ridiculous that notion is now.

"Sounds like your Gran was right proper Southern lady," he says looking away from me. I think I almost see disappointment in his eyes, but that can't be, why would **he** be disappointed that Gran was proper lady.

"Yeah, she was, had her own debutante ball and all in the said that one of Gran's ancestors attended Jefferson Davis' presidential ball in 1861." Remembering my family is something I haven't done in a while. I try not to dwell on the things I can't change, they're gone and dead.

He snorts a bit bringing me back to the present and out of memories of old plantation homes and debutante balls never to be seen again. "What's funny?"

"I just never thought I'd be sitting at a campfire with a right proper lady." He throws me another smile, he can't be flirting with me. I'm the one that doesn't belong here; I'm here to survive and nothing else.

"I'm not a raght lady." I say exaggerating my accent.

He just snorts at me again and reaches out suddenly to grab my hand, "Miss Bell, I really must apologize for mah lack of manners. I've nevar spent any time around a real lady and so I humbly beg your forgiveness for mah shortcomings." Now I know he is flirting with me, though I still don't believe it, despite the fact that it **just** happened.

I snatch my hand away from him and swat his forearm in the process. Hoping for a witty retort to find its way through my lips and I find myself disappointed to hear the words "Mah name 'snot Bell," fall out instead.

"I know it's not but you're a right Southern Bell. So your name's Bell. Least that's what I'm gonna call you tell me yer right name," he scooted closer to me and leaned in real close to my ear and whispered "and you will. One day you will." His breath a warm brush across my pulse causing me to shiver.

As he pulls away I can see the smirk on his lips again like he thinks he gained something from making me shiver. "That doesn't mean anything Mr. Dixon. As for my name, it's just a name and that girl has long since died." The look his face falls and I feel bad, but its true the girl I used to died months ago.

"Why are your eyes are dilated?" He asked looking at me with those quicksilver eyes again, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a smile "And why you're lookin' at my mouth?"

Smiling I say "My eye are dilated due to several factors, the darkness," I say glancing around the glade "and mostly due to endrophine releases in my brain. It's a specific reaction the body has, it means nothing. Besides you're one to talk. You're eyes have wander over my entire body during this conversation. And most frequently strayed to **my** mouth."

"Maybe I'm just not used to havin' such a beautiful woman for company on watch." He said looking at me.

"I've been here." I say looking at him, it's true I have been here, since joining the group, I've just been up my tree.

"Just up a tree. You still haven't told me why yah do that darlin'."

"Somethings take time, Daryl." I say looking at him. I reach my fingers up to brush the stray hair that's fallen back in his eye away and am shocked to hear him gasp as my fingers brush his skin.

"You're cold, darlin' git over 'ere," he said lifting his arm and indicating the small spot next to him. I'm shocked to find that I want to sit next to him, but life is never so simple, 'specially not this life. He must have been watching indecision and uncertainty flicker over my face and eyes because he continued "Your Vikings wouldn't have thought twice about sharin' warmth."

"Fine, being warm at night would be nice," I concede standing up and stepping over the tree roots to settle in next to him. The bone knife on my hip accessible if need be. My things a short distance away, if anything happened I could be gone before anyone knew a thing.

After I sit down next to him Daryl settled his arm around shoulders and started to rub my upper arm. I guess I was colder than I thought "Why do you care?"

"What did yah say darlin'?" I'm not too surprised he seemed pretty focused on the dark space just ahead of us.

"Why do you care? No one else cares about me, at least not really, they don't trust me. So why do you, Daryl Dixon, care about me?" I say getting more defensive than I meant to but **nothing** in this world is free. And I'm a bit afraid of what his attention is going to cost me.

He took a moment answering my question and he ran the hand that wasn't rubbing my arm through his hair. With a sigh he said "I donn know, I just do. Yah don't seem like yah need protection but at the same time it's like you're lookin' for somethin' or someone you lost. Yah know what I mean darlin'?"

The hand that had been rubbing my shoulder stopped and moved a bit, I waited for what was going to come next; the only thing he did was turn so he could look at me and held my face so I could look into the crystal blue eyes that were pouring out nothing but sincerity. And in that moment I knew I was safe. As long as Daryl Dixon was around I would be safe.

I wasn't even aware that I had started crying until Daryl's thumb wiped away a tear from my cheek. He brought my head down to rest on his shoulder and just sat petting my hair every so often I would catch something he said, I can remember clearly hearing "shhhh, it's alright now.", "Nothing going to git yah." and "You're safe darlin'."

And I was, for the first time since this God-awful mess started I felt truly safe.

AN:Now click that little box down there and give me a review. If you want to read more about Bell and Daryl give me a review to let me know and don't forget to favorite the story to get updates as soon as they are posted! And yes I am aware that Katniss from Hunger Games slept in trees; honestly not a bad policy in life and death situations. Humans have had two feet on the ground for so many hundreds of thousands of years that we forget to look up. Hence why if you're trying to get away, go up whenever possible.


	2. Update Information

Update:

It seems this story line is at least interesting to some people so I will hopefully be updating this story sometime in the next week. I have a vague notion for the next check, just need to work out a few kinks. If anyone has any ideas for a chapter or a direction you would like to see this going in please feel free to let me know.

Also remember to click the follow button so that you can be updated when there is a new chapter!


	3. I don't go Hunting

AN: I'm sorry it's taken so long to get up a next chapter. Life hit and hit hard right after I posted Safe. Short version my step-sister was killed and then I got sick. So here's the next chapter. I had no real idea exactly how I wanted to get where I want to be with this story so I went searching for ideas and this is what I came up with. It's Daryl's perspective, hope you like it.

_Our wounds are often the openings _

_into the best and most _

_beautiful parts of us. _

David Richo

Morning usually sucked, especially more after a rain. Daryl had found that out the hard way when he was a lost child at 8 years old; 16 year old brother in juvie, father, if you could call the prick that, on a bender with a waitress. When he glanced down at the young woman asleep on his shoulder Daryl felt the smallest of smiles creep its way across his face, the innocence in her face as she slept on his shoulder warming his heart in the cool spring morning.

"Mm, Bell hon, wake up," Daryl breathed against her forehead. This had become their ritual, since the first night the nameless girl he called Bell climbed out of her tree and fell asleep on his shoulder her hand on the bone knife at her hip; and in the nights following that first time whenever he had first watch she would climb out of her tree and sit with him sometimes talking, most of the time not, just sitting in the silence of the night. After several nights of silence she had stopped resting her hand on the knife; She was still quite twitchy though, she didn't like being on the ground even though he would rather die than lose another person, and had told her that, if not in words than in his actions.

"Huh," she said sleepily blinking before the moment of panic when her brain registered the ground the beneath her, Daryl always leaned away as her instinct pulled her from the warm cocoon she had been in and her hand flew to her knife. As she observed that there was no danger she relaxed against him once again before smiling apologetically at him.

"There you are," he said with a smile brushing the few strands that had escaped her braid. Doing his best to hide his pain that some part of her, no matter how small, still did not trust him.

"Mm, morning," she said bring a hand up to rub the side of her face before moving to rub the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?!"

"Shh, little before dawn, no one's up yet," he said shifting to allow her get up to stretch. This happened most mornings; her paranoia at people knowing anything more than the nickname he had given her didn't sit well so she always wanted to be either awake or up in her tree when the others woke up.

A wistful smile crossed his face as he thought that a few months ago someone, Dale, would have caught on immediately or nearly so, to what the two were doing. But Dale was gone, dead, Daryl hadn't really known the man well, but he had been a good man. And now he was another name to remember of people who were no longer alive; just another victim of the disaster. The comfort he found in the memory of Dale was that the man was at peace, not so with some others. Pushing the thoughts from his head he looked at the girl he called Bell she was positioning herself at the base of the tree where she had left her harness getting ready to climb up to it.

"You going back to sleep, hon?" he asked dreading the answer.

"Eh, I'll see how I feel when I get up there. What about you?" Bell asked glancing over her shoulder at Daryl as she prepared to climb the tree to her perch.

"Been thinking I might go look for something edible," Daryl said pushing the thoughts of peace he had felt just moments ago from his mind, as the girl with no name paused in her climb preparations to look over her shoulder at him.

"You want to go hunting?" she asked the ropes in her hands just waiting to return her to the perch where she'd hung her harness. Steadying himself Daryl concentrated on the silence and serenity that the woods had brought him since those days lost in the woods. In his heart Daryl knew she trusted him, that didn't mean that her reluctance to accept that she was safe within their group, with him, didn't hurt. That the only time her eyes weren't guarded and movement didn't hint at her devastated soul were the moments she was settled beneath his arm.

Drawing himself up proudly Daryl proclaimed "I don't go hunting; I go killing." It was the first time he had uttered those words since he'd begun ot make his way towards Atlanta in the hopes of finding people he still couldn't admit were gone, even to himself. The anger and bitterness associated with the truth that the woman who had said those same words, to a younger Daryl Dixon, was long dead and gone came through his voice.

Looking at the girl across the camp he saw her shoulder stiffen at the sound of his voice and watched as she buried her reaction to his tone deep inside her with everything else. Some part of him thought it was good that she was in pain; maybe then she could understand what he felt ever morning she woke thinking he would attack her.

Weeks ago after their first night when he'd had the first watch, he watched as she climbed out of the tree and held his breath until she settled next to him and ask if he wanted company. It was their habit now and he always gave her the space she needed but that didn't mean it didn't wound him when he saw the accusation in her half-conscious eyes that he had impure motives in his mind.

Without a second thought about her Daryl picked up his crossbow and slung a bag with some water in over his shoulder and slipped into the woods. Another thing he had learned in the subsequent visits to the woods, after his introduction to them, was that they were a place of balance and order, the strong and capable killed the weak. And that was what he needed, balance. Nothing made much sense to him much anymore, he needed the solace he found in the woods.

Moving between the branches Daryl breathed in the morning air, savoring the taste of the damp cool air as it filled his mouth and soothed the anguish in his soul. The early morning fog was swirling through the underbrush, his feather light steps created swirling cyclones at his ankles. Taking a moment to bend down and inspect the earth for tracks Daryl felt a sense of nostalgic bitterness that not so long ago the idea of the dead rising up to eat the living was a farfetched as the belief in Gods and it didn't matter a lick to him which ones you were talking about.

He missed the days when going to the woods was tranquil and pleasant, not the means to live by; when the skills he'd developed as a child were hobbies and not perquisites to surviving. Trekking through the woods Daryl was careful to stay within a safe distance to the camp, it was a delicate balance of the greatest distance from the camp so as to find wildlife abundant but not going so far as to be _too far_ from his people.

Walking carefully through the brush as the fog began to dissipate, Daryl froze at the sound of movement in the underbrush. He leveled his crossbow at the bush in the direction the sound had come from. As the hare emerged from the bush across from him Daryl let the bolt fly from the bow. His aim was true and the hare slumped dead on the ground.

A few quick steps and Daryl had the hare gathered up, the bolt removed, and his query stored in the bag. Continuing on through the brush Daryl was unconsciously aware of the time that had passed since he'd left the camp and knew that soon he would need to return, whether he wanted to see the knowing silent forgiveness in her eyes, or not.

Glancing ahead of him in search of danger Daryl noticed a change in the trees ahead about 200 yards distant. Taking a few steps towards the oddity Daryl moved carefully through the brush, they had been tracking herds all winter and there were several moving through the area. As he approached the strange growth pattern Daryl saw that the trees actually stopped for about 8-10 feet. Stepping through the final bit of brush Daryl passed through the tree line into the 9 foot break in the trees and he saw the reason for the break in the trees—railroad tracks.

His curiosity sated Daryl turned back and began making his way back to the group. The ramifications of the tracks echoing through his mind. Railroad tracks tended to lead somewhere and that somewhere had to be better than what they were living in now.

What they were doing was not living, they were surviving, and he wanted to get back to living. He guessed that the girl, whoever she was, had enjoyed living and life at one point too. He didn't want to find a place for her, he wanted to find a place to live. And if she came out of her shell he wouldn't mind seeing who she was. Smart pretty girl from a good family studying anthropology, natural medicine and botany with weapon skills to boot, she sure was something else.

Stunning, shocking, a slap in the face, something to make you stand up just a little straighter. Maybe that's why he liked her. She was Belle. She could survive in the world around them and do it with grace, it was something different. What he'd seen the moment he met her was like one of those moments people talk about, the world stopped.

He knew there was a faint smile on his lips remembering the first time he laid his eyes on Bell. It was a cold morning just at the beginning of winter, frost still crunched under his feet as he looked for any animals late to hibernation. And there she was calmly combing out her hair beside a rekindled fire; his eyes glanced around the glen, a walker shambled towards the girl he would later call Bell. A whistling whoosh broke the morning stillness and the walker fell in true death with an arrow between its eyes.

When he looked back at the young woman she had begun braiding her as though nothing had transpired. And that was what struck him. Over the coming weeks there would be more he'd discover about her. It would be in the way she'd smile at Carol, the silent way she proved to be the person he could trust to defend what was dear to his heart. The way her eyes watched him, the way he watched her. He'd found a kindred spirit, a survivor with a broken soul stitched together.

Stepping between the trees Daryl found the group occupying themselves with morning activities. Lori was bothering Carl about minding his hygiene, as though that were still a top priority with the dead walking. Rick was hovering nearby; Hershel was looking over his family, ordering things.

"Welcome back," Carol said from across the fire from him, he smiled warmly at the woman who reminded him of so many who'd cared for him in his younger days. When Carol smiled he felt as though anything were possible even in this world, the best word for what he felt for her was fondness, she was so caring, she was warm and she was capable in a way not many women he'd known were.

Just beyond Carol's shoulder, at the edge of the camp on the periphery of everything was the young woman who'd been in his thoughts since he'd stormed out of camp. When he met her eyes she gave him a small sad smile. He'd hurt her, he knew, she'd forgive him because deep down she knew.

AN: Hope you liked it. Now please give me a review, click the little box below and let me know what you think. Ideally I'll have number three up in a week to 10 days depending on work load.


	4. Aftermath

_In three words I can sum _

_up everything I've learned _

_about life: it goes on._

_~Robert Frost_

The moment from not an hour prior haunted my thoughts as we stood in the cage. The optimism in the air had been palatable. Hershel was up and moving around the prison. Seeming to promise that we could face anything. That the bleakness and lack of stability were things we left beyond the fence. We might be able to recover and be something resembling what we once were, behind the fences.

Everyone had paused in that moment to savor it. The feeling that we could be. Unconscious of what they were doing my eyes had found Daryl between two fences and 500 yards away. His behavior hadn't change like Rick's did. There was no recognition of me as anything. Why would there be? But there he was, the man who save my life, and that moment we seemed just slightly better. In that moment there was hope, and we all knew it.

But that moment had passed and now we were stunned into silence that seemed deafening after the prison's riot alarm had been shut off. "They must have gotten the alarms shut off." Hershel said in his matter-of-fact way. Beth and I both took a small bit of comfort from this, some things would remain the same. And the way Hershel provided comfort would probably never change.

"I think it might be okay if we got out of here" I said looking between Beth and Hershel, "Just don't go too far from the cage." As we exited the cage they stood on the stoop and watched worriedly as I jumped down and stalked around the corner leading to the back of the yard making sure there weren't any more walkers. Minutes of silence passed until Rick and the others came running out of the prison hoping to find everyone in the yard again.

Rick broke the silence running out of the door to the Tombs "Hershel!"

"You didn't find them?" Hershel asked immediately as everyone halted before the stairs. It was just rick, Daryl, Glenn, and the two prisoners Axel and Oscar.

"We thought maybe they came back out here." Glenn said looking at the worried faces of his family. The desperation we all shared echoed in his voice.

"What about T? Carol?" Hershel asked giving voice to the question we all wanted to ask but didn't have the heart to ask.

And it was Daryl who shook his head and looking at the ground said "They didn't make it." His hand clenched a bit tighter around the scarf she had worn around her head.

"That doesn't mean the others didn't." Rick said desperation in his voice. "Daryl you come with-", he was cut off by the sound of a baby's cry.

The shock was sudden and shattering, perfectly embodied by the baby's cry that informed us of the final cost of the day. In that moment we all lost something more profound than what we lost with Carol or what T-Dog took with him to his savior. Lori took the innocent belief that we could go back. No matter how safe we may one day feel, Lori's death will always be in the minds of those who heard her child's wailing shriek, a reminder that we will never be what we were.

Rick's pleading cries were the first sound uttered and echoed desperately in all our hearts. Unconsciously we all began to move closer together seeking comfort in those that we survived this hell with. Daryl's shoulders remained burdened by his grief at Carol's loss; I was lost in my own shame at having not run after her. We had grown close through the cold months, most especially when the spring thaw threatened not only the ground by also my own heart. It was Carol who smiled as though she had always known.

But somehow he was able to snap out of the shock faster than the rest of us. He went up to Rick almost immediately, and asked "Rick you with me?"

When he didn't get any response, his and everyone's attention quickly turned to the baby we would later call Judith; Hershel asked to look at her and happily declared that despite everything we had been through during the winter she was somehow healthy.

He had worriedly said that she would need formula almost immediately, and in that moment I had kicked myself for not thinking of it and grabbing a can or two after joining them. Surely we had gone through a place that had had some. Looking back I can't believe I so naively believed that the baby would be breast feed, it was the ideal situation for everyone but in this life couldn't be expected.

Daryl immediately stated that we would not lose her or anyone else that day and that he would go on a run. Taking quick steps towards the fence he glanced at me. It's easy to say now that I knew he wanted me to stay and look after everything because of the breach but in those moments the only thing I could hear were the baby's cries. Maggie immediately said she had to go too, and Glenn in his concern for her said he would go too. So I stayed by Hershel, Carl, Beth and the baby; and silently promised that if they weren't okay when the others got back I wouldn't be either. Daryl was right, we couldn't lose another person.

In the end Daryl ended up taking Maggie on the bike; honestly if you had to have a vehicle at least a motorcycle could get through most situations when compared to a car. But it's still depending on limited technology, eventually all the gas in the country will be gone. Honestly it was probably better with two of us there; he went out and began digging the graves we would need and I cleaned out the cell block. And Rick, well he was wherever he was, I think at some point Glenn went off to find him. After I got the Walkers killed in the cellblock I had to get them out and the place cleaned. It wasn't particularly easy but it had to be done.

Axel and Oscar helped get the bodies out the cell block after they spread the walkers outside the fence a bit. After the work was all done the rest of the time passed monotonously slowly. That was what life turned into bursts of boredom interspaced by periods of complete terror. A bit after dark and long after Judith began lamenting her empty stomach we heard the roar of the Triumph coming up the road.

The Triumph had barely stopped before Maggie rushed off the bike and into the cell block. Rushing after her I felt Daryl at my shoulder. As soon as he was in the room with little Judith Daryl scooped her out of her brother's arms and managed to sooth her cries where the rest of us had failed. Maggie and Beth hurriedly mixed a bottle and handed it to the only person who could pacify her cries.

He didn't look at any of us until she took the bottle and began sucking down the formula. The smile on his face when he did was absolutely divine. He looked so proud; and if the man could glow Daryl certainly was. He looked like he had been reintroduced to a side of him that he had thought long lost. Just for a moment.

Just for a moment, we saw a side to Daryl Dixon that he didn't show us; it was only a moment but that moment is precious to me. The man who viciously took out walkers all winter to defend us exposed to us. Sharing a secret about his life before the outbreak. His behavior explained in a moment.

"Okay everyone bed. It's been a long day and we need to get a lot done tomorrow," Hershel said shooing everyone towards the cell block.

"Yeah we'll be heading back to the tower," Glenn said his arm around Maggie as they turned towards the door. His eyes lingered a moment on Daryl and the baby, he was affectionately referring to as Lil' Asskicker. She was going to grow up with quite the vocabulary.

Daryl glanced up from the baby for just a moment, the barest hint of the man who had stood before us a moment only visible in his eyes. "I'll take first watch." His smile warmed my heart and I couldn't stop my own smile from spreading across my face.

"Okay Hershel, let's get your leg checked out." I say ushering him towards the cell block.

"After you Bell," he said gesturing with a crutch towards the block. Acquiescing him I walked into the cell block, with one last look over my shoulder at Daryl. He had returned his attention to the baby who had finished her bottle. He was throwing the red rag over his shoulder to burp her. And that was last image of him I had until I woke later.


End file.
